


The Alchemical Equation for Rage

by Wynkat



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Down the Rabbit Hole - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Apocalypse, Rage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynkat/pseuds/Wynkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The party ended at the door to wherever this is. Well, Adam’s party had ended; he could still remember the sound of the vampire and his friends laughing as they took him apart. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alchemical Equation for Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta readers for saving you all from my typos: @aislinntlc and @casey270  
> And the pre-read crew who encouraged me to keep going: @GlamLawyer, @ArianneMaya, and @GlambertUK71
> 
> A/N: Mind the tags/warnings. No. Really. This is quite possibly the darkest thing I have ever written.

Adam wakes slowly, hesitantly. He’s been through this enough times now that he knows what’s on the other side of sleep. Knows that waking up is hell and sleep is a mockery of peace. 

He shifts in tiny increments, wincing when the ice-cold metal table burns into his flesh, reminding him that he’s naked. Memory floods through him, the wrenching pain of his arms being pulled up over his head, his leg yanked open and secured so far apart his hips felt like they would crack open. 

He forces his eyes open, pleading with his heart for something beyond his reach, but all he can see are the shades of dark and darker. The marks on the walls could be water stains, if Adam could forget the screams of the other humans who’d hung in chains there. The jumble of shadows in the corner could be a chair or a pile of boxes. Adam doesn’t know what it actually is, only that it shifts occasionally in deeply unnerving silence. 

He doesn’t know where in LA he is, or even if he’s still in the city. He remembers getting into a car, martini in hand, curled into the strength of a gorgeous man. _Vampire_ He’d let the vamp pull him close and lick across his skin, whisper bullshit in his ear and finger fuck him from one orgasm to the next. Somewhere after he’d sucked the vamp off, the car had stopped. 

The party ended at the door to wherever this is. Well, Adam’s party had ended; he could still remember the sound of the vampire and his friends laughing as they took him apart.

Now Adam’s torn and bloodied, shackled to a bitterly cold table. 

In the dark. 

Alone. 

 

*

“I was going to give you to the Reny’s,” The Master Vampire whispered into Adam’s ear as he fucked him for the fourth or fifth time. He said it almost as though he were continuing a conversation they’d started over lunch or something. Talking about the Reny’s – his collection of half-turned servants everyone else called Renfrews after the stories that used to be just myths. He laughed and gossiped like it was no big deal that he had Adam bound under him, crying. 

“I had thought about letting them taste your sweet ass and clean up your blood, but no.” He pulled out, hovered over Adam and smiled, his cinnamon skin and sharp edged features almost beautiful. “No, I think I’ll send you as a gift to Oscar, remind him what happens when human’s don’t pay their dues on time.” 

The Vampire slid his dick slowly back into Adam. It was longer than anything human and ice cold. Adam pulled against his restraints, trying to get away from the pain. The Master laughed, pulling out quickly, then slamming himself into Adam’s ass. 

“He’ll look at you, getting blood all over that hideous carpet in his top floor office, with its view of Hollywood, and wonder if you could have been one of his stars,” the vamp said, his voice silky and smooth, a cobra at home in its desert cave. “A boy with a face as pretty as yours would have made the press gag themselves stupid.” 

The vamp paused again, his never-ending, never flagging dick tapping against Adam’s torn asshole. With a grin, the vamp tilted his head to the side and nicked the skin of Adam’s calf. Adam’s voice broke on the scream that tore out of him. The vamp seemed fascinated by the blood that dripped there, then he wiped his fingers through the mess and started drawing on Adam’s skin. 

“I should give him a recording of you singing for me,” the vamp said, dragging blood and semen up and over Adam’s nipples. “Let him hear what he could have had, if he hadn’t lied to me.”

The vampire slammed back in, and his laughter turned into a command. “Sing for me, filthy human slut.”

Adam cried out begging with every ounce of what was left of his soul, “Stop, please... Please! Pleasepleaseplease, stop. Please!” Animal instinct made him fight the shackles, adding to the blood and tears he’d shed all the others time he’d fought the vampire. 

His voice broke with each thrust of the vampire’s dick, and Adam understood: that had been part of the point. Destroy the voice, destroy the heart and soul of the person.

“No…. Nononono” Adam sobbed. 

“That’s it, whore. Now you understand,” the vamp said. “Now you know who owns you.”

Adam shivered and nodded, black despair dragging at his lungs. 

The vampire thrust again and gasped, his clawed fingers digging into Adam’s hips. His vampire-bronze eyes went wide as he pulled out and came on a shout, his icy spunk burning across Adam’s skin. 

 

*

 

The silence is all-pervasive. 

It eats at Adam’s nerves and crawls under his skin. 

After days of being the feast, the focus of a handful of vamps and their servants, all of them taunting him while they hurt him, Adam had been praying for quiet. But this silence is worse than the laughter. It’s empty and cold. It’s the ripped-heart feeling of being forgotten, of being used and tossed aside. He’d thought being raped, beaten, taken apart cell by agonizing cell, would be the worst feeling in the world. He was wrong. 

His world is silence now. 

Silence and pain. 

 

*

He’d screwed up, not once or even twice. Adam had screwed up a dozen times. 

Craving fame and fortune, Adam had come to LA to be a singer. He’d ignored the warnings, just like his mother had. He’d trusted in his talent and his looks and ignored the people who tried to tell him that fairy tales no longer existed. 

In the last six months he’d gone from certainty to despair. He’d given up on auditions with humans who only wanted a fuck and had nothing to offer in exchange. He’d stopped singing in even the diveiest of dive bars. Then, after a week of sobbing into his bottom-shelf tequila, he’d poured himself into his favorite pair of jeans, painted his face and gone looking for work in the back rooms. 

He’d been from one vamp-owned club to the next, dressing more and more like bait and offering himself like the whore he’d become. And then he’d been even more foolish. He’d let his ego get the better of him. He’d believed his skill at sucking cock had won him the access he needed to get work. He’d believed the bullshit words of the johns. He took their cards and side jobs that promised better customers, let them entice him into darker rooms and richer fucks. All the while ignoring what he knew was true. 

There were no un-bound human performers in LA. The only people who worked the catwalks, film stages and recording booths in California (hell, in most of the states) were owned and run by the monsters. If you were human, you either sold yourself to the bastard mortal bosses, hopping they were telling the truth about giving you a record contract, or your offered you neck, and anything else, to the real vamps and prayed you survived long enough to be lied to. 

You didn’t win contests because you could sing your ass off. You didn’t bowl over a director with your ability to emote. You didn’t even get contracts because you were pretty. You either whored yourself out or you didn’t. And if you didn’t whore, you pretty much did anyway because all the humans in LA, once you looked past the make-up and fake smiles even the gardeners wore, were getting fucked by the monsters. 

Adam had learned the hard way that unlike in the old tales, vampires didn’t sparkle. They didn’t grant favors, or sweep beautiful boys into their arms to be loved and cared for. Vampires, who really were real, hunted for the pleasure of the hunt. They stalked and teased and played with their prey, human and shifter alike, until they killed them. Then the vampires reveled in their feasts. They were the monsters of everyone’s nightmares, the monsters Adam’s father had known about and his mother hadn’t understood. 

*

The cold and the silence mock Adam. 

He wants to cry. He wants to scream till someone hears him; to beg them to let him go. He pulls at the restraints, trying to tear his arms and legs free from this fucking table. He wants out. He wants to go home. He wants his mom and his dad and his stupid little brother. 

His breath catches in his throat. 

He wants to sing and be a star. 

Tears leak from his eyes. He wanted… 

He’d believed the lies, reached for the brass ring and lost. 

The vamps owned him in full now. 

He wants to live, god damn it.

* 

When Adam was two, the family moved to his dad’s hometown of Portland, OR because even though people didn’t know much about the vampires now living among them, everyone knew that vamps didn’t like the cold or the damp. A year later his little brother, Neil, was born and it seemed like things were good. Adam had school and some friends. There were TV shows and documentaries about the various monsters who had magically come to life around them. It was a little weird, their parents and teachers admitted, but nothing scary or bad. Vamps were vamps, weres were weres, humans were humans and as long as everyone kept it cool, things were okay. 

Then one day his father had gone off to work and never come home. 

It took a month of wondering and asking careful questions before Adam’s mom gave up and decided to take Adam and his brother somewhere with fewer memories of their father and better options. She’d taken them to Savannah where’d she’d grown up with vampires for neighbors and a couple of half-breeds as classmates. 

The First Gate, as the teachers called it, had opened up on the outskirts of town in a blast of smoke and a rain of stones. A day later a group of vamps and weres had come walking out of the shadows. Adam’s grandmother once told him how crazy things had been back then. How everyone had been so scared and that a lot of people and monsters had died because they just didn’t understand each other. But then they’d gotten everything sorted out. Sorted out, she’d said, like all it took was a table of apple pies and pots of warm blood. The vampires had promised not to drink from the humans and the werewolves had promised not to chew on anyone who didn’t want chewing on. They’d said they only wanted a safe place to live and raise families. 

Savannah was the first city to die. It died quietly, a bite at a time, until no one even realized it was comprised of the dead and their minions. Even his Gran had become one of the servants to the vamps, but Adam and his family didn’t know that until it was too late. 

Their dad had wanted the family to move farther north, into Canada, or even, Adam once heard him say, over to Iceland. Their mom didn’t believe vampires could be as bad as everyone said. To her and the rest of her friends and family, vamps were campfire stories. Werewolves were the thing to worry about in Canada, especially mid-country. They liked the cold and the long distances between towns. Mom was sure they would be safer around Vamps. He and Neil had heard their parents fighting about it almost every night before Dad disappeared.

They’d been in Savannah for almost five years when Neil’s bloodless body was placed on their doorstep. 

A few months later the then President of the United States had made one final attempt to save humanity. He’d named all vampires and werewolves Terrorists and ordered them arrested on sight. He was found, 36 hours later, still breathing but with a distinct lack of skin, turning on a spit over a fire on the front lawn of the white house. Only half the members of Congress were present that afternoon for the swearing in of the new President. The missing members were found headless in their offices a few hours later. The new, and last, mortal President’s body was never recovered. 

Adam’s mother had gotten drunk every night for a week after that. Then she’d walked out of the house they’d been sharing with another family of refugees. Adam had woken up the next morning to find a photo of her pinned to the front porch. His housemate had burned the picture, but Adam would never forget it. His mother had been posed in the center of a vampire feast, naked except for blood and bite marks. 

He’d moved to LA the next day. 

He still occasionally woke up screaming with a vision of her lifeless eyes staring at him. 

 

* 

Adam opens his eyes, startled out of dozing by the distant sound of metal scraping over stone. Shadows dance across the wall and over the ceiling; a Nutcracker suite of rat bones and bleeding bodies. 

His hips ache, his ass is torn and wet, his skin is scraped raw by claws and fangs.

He can hear music somewhere in the distance, or maybe it’s inside his head, clashing chords of hard-edged bass and blues guitar mixing with a rising-tide of human sound. The cries of pretty young things begging for release, for more, for less, the sound of boys calling out his name and pleading with him to fuck them, to make them stars simply by kissing them. 

He strains to reach out, to touch the crowd, and coughs on a scream. 

Everything hurts. 

The shadows shift as a light flickers just beyond his field of vision. It’s enough to make the silence and isolation a distant memory. 

With each twitch of the shadows, Adam shivers and relives his tormentor’s promises. 

 

* 

Magic zipped across Adam’s skin, tickling, biting, sucking at his strength even as it made him crave it. Each teasing brush of the Master Vamp’s finger pressed the magic against his nerve-endings, sparking heat and cold and pain. Then it would vanish with another wave of the Master’s hand as he sucked the energy, and a little more of Adam, back into himself. 

The Master fucked into Adam, pressing pain along his skin with a chuckled, “Just like that, slut. Shiver for me.” He pulled out slowly, drawing out the pain and power with his dick. Over and over until Adam couldn’t tell if he were burning alive or freezing to death. 

“Please…” his voice gone again. 

Another chuckle and another hard thrust, and the Master came on a groan. He closed his eyes and rocked into Adam, dragging out the sensations. 

“Mmm. I do love human ass.” He patted Adam’s hip. “All yours, my pets,” the Master Vamp said as he pulled out of Adam. One graceful hand pushed a lock of snow-white hair off his face with a languid smile. 

The Renfrews and other nameless servants around the room looked at him as one creature, their hungry eyes boring into Adam, and waited. The Master had offered Adam up to them before only to sigh with feigned sorrow or some shit and change his mind. Each time he had waved them off to the apparently less interesting other humans chained around the room.

This time, the Mater’s satisfied smile remained and he nodded to his minions. Adam could hear their whispers and the scuffing sounds of their bodies against the tile as they inched closer. 

The Master patted Adam’s still hard cock, and Adam bucked up, against his will, into that ice-cold touch. He needed to come. He’d been hard for what felt like days. He hated needing anything from this fucking vamp. It didn’t matter that Adam was hard because of drugs and the magic. He hated that the cravings were there, that he wanted everything the vamps were giving him and wanted more. 

“But don’t touch his face. I want our friends to see how beautiful he is.” 

Adam fought against the tears. He knew it was pointless, but he wanted to hold on to any piece of himself that he could. 

The vamp chuckled and licked his lips. Then he dropped into the only chair in the room, legs wide enough for Adam to see his blood slick cock. The Master extended a hand to his side and pulled a skinny, naked guy into his lap. Adam couldn’t see what happened next, but the guy’s broken sobs were clear enough. 

And then Adam was screaming himself as blunt teeth and sharp nails tore into his skin. His dick throbbed in time with the sucking pulls against his veins. Hands stroked over his skin, pinching, scratching, heating and hurting everywhere they went. 

And still he was hard. Still he craved and begged and cried and broke. Over and over again. 

“So good,” a voice purred from above Adam. “So pretty. So broken and wanton.” 

Adam tried to find the creature attached to that voice, but his eyes wouldn’t work. Everything was dark, even though he would have sworn his eyes were open. 

“Open wide, boy,” another voice said as a hard cock pressed into his mouth

“Such pretty tears,” said another. 

“Gonna fuck you till the sun rises,” came another voice in time with a set of brutal fucks into Adam’s ass. “Then leave you for the humans.”

 

*

Adam floats in pain, his body out of his control. 

His vision comes and goes along with his hearing and the ability to speak or cry out. It feels like something has gotten inside his body and is using his very cells against him. 

His eyes can’t see what’s happening around him, but he can still feel everything. Hear all of it. And even in the darkness, Adam can see that fucking vampire laughing at him. 

 

*

The pain changes over time. His mouth goes dry. His skin feels like it’s cracking. 

Sometime later he feels like he’s freezing, as though his blood is slowing, changing into ice under his skin. 

He breaks open. Reforms. Breaks again. 

If pain is a constant, Adam wonders (or maybe says out loud, he cant tell what’s real any more) what does it mean when you can’t die? 

 

* 

 

“Will you release him now, Master?” 

Adam swam to consciousness knowing that he’d heard that voice before, not just answering the Master, but whispering to Adam as well. Or maybe Adam had dreamed that along with his dreams of escape. . It sounded like the brown-hair twink job the Master seemed to keep as a toy; the one the Reny’s whispered about but avoided at all costs. 

“Do you think I should, Thomas?” 

Adam couldn’t see, his vision had gone black again a while ago, but that voice had to belong to the Master vampire, no one else had a voice like that, honey gold and sharp as a knife. And no one, not even the other vampires ever called the Master’s toy by name.

A faint touch grazed the tip of Adam’s dick, and he whimpered. A moment later the pressure increased, becoming a warm steady glide around the engorged rim and then down toward the base. 

“Yes,” the guy, Thomas, said quietly. “I wanna see him come. Can I?”

“You know what could happen if I allow that.” Adam heard the words as a statement, a warning.

There was movement beyond Adam’s awareness, the guy moving or being moved, the Master vamp shifting. The finger on Adam’s dick became a hot fist squeezing tight, and he begged in hopeless gasps, “Please…please… ” 

“I know, master,” Thomas said. The fist holding off Adam’s release loosened and then slid upwards. “He becomes your boy.” 

“And if he does?” The vamp layered the word with a thousand years of threats. 

The fist on Adam’s cock stopped moving. Adam couldn’t breathe; he needed that touch so fucking badly. 

“I will still belong to you.” Thomas’ voice held an edge that surprised Adam even in his nightmares.

“And?”

“The floor.” 

There was a pause, and Adam desperately wanted to see what the freaks were doing with their bodies and their eyes. 

“I… I belong to you, but your lap will be full…. So I would get the floor.”

“You will.” 

Adam heard Thomas suck in a breath and then the sounds of a sloppy crush of lips on lips. 

“Mine to give and take,” the vamp growled. “Are you so desperate to see this pathetic slut moan in pleasure that you would risk that?”

Thomas whimpered, “For you, master. For you to enjoy.” 

The master laughed, then a weight, not heavy exactly, but almost too much with as fucked up as Adam was, fell across Adam’s thighs. 

“My perfect boy. Ride your toy, and we’ll see if I let either of you come before he dies.” 

Hands pushed against Adam’s legs, and he fought against the pain, making himself stay still. The larger, ageless, icy hands of the Master vamp slid into Adam’s hair and tugged his head back. Sharp teeth bit at his mouth; one fang grazed his bottom lip, and Adam hissed at the jagged pain. 

“Give him your best, whore,” the vamp said against Adam’s lips, his tone almost as sweet as a lover’s, “and I might let him keep you. He’s been such a good boy, and his body feels so good, his blood so sweet, when he cries for me. I’m almost tempted to let him come so that I can taste the difference between ecstasy and pain in his tears.” 

Warm, slick hands stroked roughly up Adam’s cock and then he was encased in glorious heat. He cried out, shocked and terrified by how good it felt. “Fuck!” 

The vamp laughed, his hold on Adam’s hair taking strands with it as Adam fought against everything he was being given and everything that was being taken from him. 

“Oh yes, that’s it, pretty human whore. Fight me. Fight the magic… Give my boy the ride of his life.” 

“Master!” Thomas cried out. 

“Does it feel good, my pet?”

Light seeped in around the edges of Adam’s vision. Shadows wavered as the guy on his dick moved up and down, faster and faster with each ragged groan. 

“Tell me, boy,” the vamp demanded. “How does it feel?”

The vamps fingers pulled away from Adam’s hair, the bright sharp pain mixing with everything else overloading Adam’s senses. 

“Hurts, master. Hurts so much.”

“Yes, my pet,” the vamp purred, his voice farther away. 

Adam blinked several times, willing the light to change again, for the shadows to solidify. When he risked a look, Adam could see the shadowy form of the vamp wrapping one hand around Thomas’ neck. The vamps other hand was teasing at Thomas’ dick. 

“Master…! 

“Not yet, boy, not yet.” 

“Too… too… much. Too mu—“ 

Adam’s vision was clear enough to see that Thomas’ eyes were wide with some fucked up mix of fear and need.

“More, fuck him harder,” the Vampire growled back at Adam.

“Can—Can’t.”

The Vamp released Thomas’ cock and waved his fingers in the air. The pressure that had been drilling into Adam’s limbs eased. He shifted on the table. The leather straps were still in place but whatever other thing – magic – Adam’s mind supplied, that had been holding him motionless was gone. He twitched as Thomas forced himself down on Adam’s cock. It was a pain so good he wanted to cry. 

Adam canted his hips, pushing up to meet Thomas. 

Thomas cried out, his wrecked voice layered with pleasure this time. 

“Liked that, did you, my sweet little slut?”

“Yes… yes…” Thomas’ words cut off, and Adam could see him clawing at the vamp’s hand around his neck.

“Should I have him split you open, little slut?” the Master asked, and Thomas nodded emphatically. “Maybe I should use him to break you on his cock and then give you to the Reny’s.” 

Thomas’ eyes shifted again, fear screaming loud and clear from their darkness as he shook in the vamp’s arms. Thomas’ head twisted from side to side as though he were trying to say no, but no sound came from his lips. 

The vamp looked down, caught Adam’s gaze and held it. “Fuck him, whore. Fuck him as if your life depended on it,” the vamp went still, and Thomas with him, “because it does.”

The vamp gentled his touch on Thomas, his fingers sliding away from Thomas’ bruised neck. He caught Thomas in his arms as Thomas fell forward gulping air, his eyes still on Adam. 

“Fuck him, whore, fuck him until he’s crying for release. Make him writhe for me, and I’ll consider not draining you dry.” The vamp leaned down, face nearly at Adam’s mouth. “Can you do that?” 

Adam swallowed and nodded. “Yes. God. Yes, please… I can. I will!” 

The vamp waved his hand again, and Adam’s body was suddenly burning hot. Every muscle felt energized and powerfully alive. He rolled his hips. This time the restraints and the magic let him move, really move, so he used it, driving into the tight heat and sweeping back out in one continuous, glorious wave. Above him, Thomas was sitting stock still, as if frozen, his eyes shut and his mouth open, soft and inviting. Adam wanted to kiss those blistered lips, feel the guy’s breath against his skin. 

“Fuck him,” the vamp said, pinching one of Thomas’ nipples. Adam could see Thomas’ eyes open wide, but his body didn’t so much as twitch. “Fuck. Him. Whore.” 

Adam thrust his hips up; it was so fucking hot, he never wanted to stop. He pulled back and did it again, over and over, not caring if it hurt, or who it hurt, just needing the slick, hard drag across his dick and the rushing promise of release. 

Thomas was making this string of high pitched, breathy, needy sounds, the tempo and desperation ratcheting up with each trust of Adam’s hips. His emaciated body trapped between Adams frantic need and the vamp’s fangs now embedded in his jugular. 

Something tugged at Adam’s thoughts, dragging his eyes to Thomas’ face. Whisky dark eyes bore down into Adam, something wordless and demanding within them. Adam stretched his hands out, pushing past their heaviness to clutch at Thomas’ waist. 

“Come on, damn you,” Adam growled. 

And as if that had been what Thomas needed, his body twitched and thick ropes of come burned into the hundreds of open wounds on Adam’s chest. Thomas’ ass muscles locked painfully tight around Adams cock. A second shock wave crashed from him into Adam, this time filling the room with a howl of something layered and unearthly. 

Trapped inside that glorious hell, Adam screamed until he couldn’t, and came. 

 

* 

He’s burning up. Bleeding out. 

Nameless, voiceless, and shattered, he dreams of the desert; of digging in the cracking topsoil and hunting for water. 

His fingers fracture before his eyes. 

His skin splits, and his blood falls like dust into the soot-filled sky. 

He’s going to die of thirst. 

 

* 

 

Something damp grazed his stomach, and Adam coughed out a shout. 

“Just me,” a voice said. 

Adam pried his eyes open. Thomas was standing beside the table, a cloth in his hands.

“Need to clean you up, since you’re still alive. Stubborn. Master likes them stubborn.” 

“Alive—“ Adam tried to say, but the words were ash.

Thomas stopped wiping Adam’s chest. He stared at Adam with an odd expression on his face, studying him, and then Thomas reached down below the table. He twisted, and Adam heard water splashing. Raising his hand up, Thomas squeezed the rag over Adam’s mouth. Adam’s tongue exploded. He gulped and strained for more. 

“Not so fast.” Thomas pulled the cloth away. 

“Please….” 

Thomas looked at him again, his eyes dark. There was a sound, metal on metal, from outside the room. He looked toward it and then back at Adam. He shook his head. “Stubborn,” he murmured. 

“S’what my mom always called me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “One thing. Promise one thing, and I’ll make the thirst go away.” 

“What?”

“Promise.” 

Adam stared at the guy who waggled the dripping rag. “Okay. Promise.”

“Say it.” 

Adam coughed and tried again. “I promise you, Thomas“ 

“No.” Thomas shook his head, shredded blond and brown hair flying around his bruised face. “No,” he spit off to one side. “That’s his name for me.”

“What’s—“ 

“Tommy,” he hissed, lips nearly touching Adam’s ear. “Was, am, will be, Tommy Joe.” 

“Okay, Tommy Joe,” Adam said. 

“Not where he can hear you!” 

“Okay.” Adam said again, then when Tommy didn’t say anything else he went on. “I promise you, Tommy Joe … What?”

“Promise that… “ Tommy looked over his shoulder and then quickly back at Adam. “You’ll kill him. You’ll kill the Master.”

Adam felt his eyes try and bug out of his head. “I can’t – he’s --- I’m. Stuck here!” Adam tugged at his chains to make a point and his arms lifted off the table. Surprised, Adam moved them a little closer to Tommy, testing. He could almost touch Tommy’s hand before he ran out of slack. So, he was still physically bound to the fucking table with leather cuffs, but the Vamp hadn’t reset the magical bindings.

Tommy pressed himself close to Adam’s cheek, his lips against Adam’s ear. “Promise!” he hissed. 

“Fine” Adam croaked. It wasn’t like he had a whole lot of options. The guy was obviously insane, but if it got him water… “I promise. I don’t know what the fuck you think I can do, but… Give me water, and I’ll kill who ever the hell you want. I’ll kill the vamp.” 

Tommy nodded, then squeezed the rest of the water into Adam’s mouth. It tasted like stale heaven. 

“He fucked up,” Tommy whispered, dipping the rag in the bucket again and squeezing it against Adam’s lips. “He let me come. He made you make me come. The magic heard you. Heard him give the orders. It heard you stake a claim on me. And then me on you when our stuff mixed.” 

“So what?”

“That’s more than he’s ever done,” Tommy said as if that clarified everything. 

“Yeah, ok. We both got off. Fucking finally. So what? He’s never going to let us go.”

Tommy tipped his head up and flashed a grin. His incisors were short like Adam’s but had sharply pointed tips like the vamps. 

“One of the Renfrews told me about it. ‘Supposed to be a myth. How a vamp can turn a Reny or a toy like me. It can happen if a Vamp takes too much blood or uses too much magic. The Reny said that the Wyrd gets confused. The pathways tangle. Nothing makes sense any more. Except… If you follow the blood… If it mixes right. If there’s enough need… they say it can make a new master.” 

“The fuck?” Adam growled and tried to pull away. “You’re trying to get us both killed.” 

“No!” Tommy hissed. His hands, slender but fucking strong, pushed Adam back against the table. “I’d rather be a Reny than his boy ever again, for ever and ever nothing but a hole. That’s all we are to him. Fuck-and-sucks. He thinks he’s gonna make you one too, now. I don’t mind the floor. I’d still be a hole, but it would be better than being his boy. I’d even be okay dying on the floor as a hole, but we could have more. Will have more. “

Tommy stood up, scrubbing the damp cloth along Adam’s chest as he went. 

“Tommy—“ 

“Shh!” Tommy’s eyes were pits of fear. “Don’t say the name. The name is death. Master calls Thomas when he wants, no one else.”

“Okay. Okay.” 

“Here,” Tommy said. He loosened the cuffs holding Adam to the table. Adam had to swallow the scream that tried to break lose as blood rushed back through pinched nerves and dried out tendons. When Tommy finished, he held out his wrist to Adam. 

“What?” 

“Bite. Bite and drink. Then you can kill him.” 

“Biting you won’t make me a vamp.” Adam tried to sit up, but his body couldn’t do it. Tommy tugged him up beside him and held him upright. 

“Renfrews say it can. Will. They say it’s already started. They’re all whispering about it behind his back. Saying the magic chose. Now you need to choose. Bite; drink me now, or be his food forever and ever.”

 

* 

There’s blood everywhere. It’s all around him, but he can’t reach it. It’s so close he can smell it, can almost taste it. 

He wants to taste it, needs to. Needs it on him, across his tongue, down his dust-dry throat. 

He can feel the urge in his teeth, the aching, throbbing need to bite, to sink through skin and muscle and sinew and hold. Hold and bite and drink.

Drink until he’s never thirsty again. 

Needs to feed.

Needs to die. 

 

*

The room was littered with glowing shadows when the Master returned. The dark shimmers were layered one on top of another to the point where Adam couldn’t tell what was his eyes not working and what was just the swaying of light bulbs. 

There was a constant susurrus of sound coiling through his body, sliding into his ears and down his throat, piling up along his spine and screaming words under his skin. 

A hand slapped him, and his head rocked sideways with the force. The pain was green and orange streamers gliding from one tooth to another. The blow came again, and this time it felt like rock salt on his cheekbone. There was sound with this slap; a voice shouting at him. 

“Wake up, slut!” 

That wasn’t his name. He couldn’t remember his name, but he knew that word wasn’t it. 

The hand came again with more words: whore, slut, bitch, filthy human. 

He flinched at that last one and, tired of the noise and the movement of his head, caught the offending hand in one of his own, and opened his eyes. 

A cinnamon and black shape swayed just out of his – Adam – that was his name – Adam’s reach. It was filled with music that called to Adam’s blood. Adam surged up, his body craving that color, the bronze notes and cold heat that was pulsing just under the flesh-cloth. 

“No!” the color shouted. “Get the fuck—“ 

Adam didn’t care about the words anymore. He just needed the warmth under that skin. He pushed forward, tried to get closer to that heat, but one of his hands was stuck behind him. Pain pulsed at points along the length of his arm. Adam pulled harder. Agony lanced through his thoughts and then stopped as his arm sprang free and the bronze heat-song-life was suddenly in reach. 

“You incompetent whores!” the voice screamed. “Chain him back down!”

The blood was singing to Adam now, calling his name, calling him a dozen names: wanted, precious, lover, beautiful, desired, beloved, each one climbing up and over the noise of the other words, pulling Adam closer until he could feel them under his fingertips, taste them on his lips. 

There were screams from somewhere nearby, and the flesh-cage holding the bronze light thrashed, but Adam didn’t care. Didn’t stop. He could feel the magic rising inside him as he touched the flesh. He licked along the outer shell, tasting something stale, old, filthy. He scraped blunt teeth over that taste, tearing past it. 

The screams around him got louder. 

The taste cleared, old muck giving way to ancient beauty, and Adam smiled. That was what he needed. That was what he had been craving. He opened his mouth wide, and pain nearly knocked him over. 

He screamed as fire burned through his jaw, paving a path for his fangs to pour down and out. 

He screamed again as they solidified in his mouth.

Then he struck. 

Blood flowed, molten hot and glorious, into Adam’s mouth

He struck again, pulling at the blood, drinking it in. It washed over him, spilled out of his mouth and over his skin, washing away the dirt and pain. He clamped his lips tighter around that perfect vein and pulled harder. The blood flooded his senses, owning him, building and remaking him. Finding every broken place in his soul that wept, and soothing it over with power. 

He drank until the husk was twitching in his arms; until there was nothing but sinew holding the bones in place. He drank until the very bones were ash in the air around him. 

And then he died. 

*

And died

* 

And died

 

* 

And died 

 

* 

Over and over again 

*

Adam died a hundred deaths, a thousand. 

He saw each face that had kept the old husk alive. Saw each patch of skin that had glowed like honey and wine and perfection just before the old fangs bit into that beauty and stole it away.

He felt each life seep into his mouth, old and new blending until it was just his mouth and his memory of how the blood flowed across his tongue, down his throat and deep into his bones. 

Over and over again. 

He saw their faces. Some were so young he hated himself for needing them; others were hard and ugly shells covering bitter souls that he was happy to feed off of. He heard beautiful boys scream and beg for life. He remembered seducing innocent young girls and relishing their broken hearts as he drank them dry. And he heard himself –that other, first, self - laugh with delight at each terrified cry. 

He felt their bodies break under him as he fucked into them. Felt them shudder and fight with each orgasm he took from them. 

He bled, and he came, and he died a thousand deaths. 

 

*

 

Adam wakes with a groan, hurting down to his cells. 

“Shhhhh,” a voice whispers too loudly. “It’s okay.”

He wants to tell that voice to fuck off, but even the thought of speaking makes his head throb. He whimpers instead.

Something clear and beautiful touches his lips. _Water_ He sighs and opens his mouth just a little. More water seeps into his pores. It’s like heaven. 

“Shhh. Shhhh,” the voice says again, but now Adam can hear that there is something off about it. He pries his eyes open. Tommy is kneeling beside him, covered in blood and dirt. 

“Tommy, oh —“ that’s as far as Adam gets before he’s curling himself over, arms wrapped around Tommy, crying as a universe of awareness slams into him. In that one moment he remembers everything. 

“Shhhh. It’s okay,” Tommy whispers over and over again as Adam thrashes under the weight of understanding. He killed them all; every last vampire, Renfrew and human servant in the Master’s lair. He killed every single one of them. And he loved it. Reveled in it, drank their blood and spat it back out to drink again. 

“I … I killed—“ 

“Yes, and they deserved it. All of them,” Tommy says. He’s holding Adam’s face between blood slick hands. “Thank you.”

Tommy kisses him, lips covered in spunk and blood and tears. Adam can taste the difference in each drop. 

“No—“ he tries, wants to say. But Tommy’s right. They deserved death. After everything those fuckers did to him and to Tommy, every one of them deserved to die a thousand times over. 

He uncurls enough to take Tommy’s face in his own wet hands and kisses him with a desperate need. 

“Mine,” Adam growls against Tommy’s lips. “Mine. My Tommy.”

“Yes.” Tommy nods, pressings closer to Adam, tears mixing between their cheeks, along their jaws. “Yours. Please. Keep me. Please.”

“Never letting you go.” 

Adam presses Tommy back and down against the floor of bodies. “Gonna fuck you.”

“Yes, please.”

“Keep you.”

“Yes.”

Adam’s hands slide over Tommy’s skin, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s touched Tommy by his own choice. No magic but his own, no restraint but his own. He’s free. They both are. “Free,” he says into Tommy’s skin. “Free.” 

“Yes,” Tommy sobs. “You did it. You killed them all.”

Adam stills for a moment, stares at Tommy, past the blood and the bruising that he never wants to see on Tommy’s skin again, to the man beneath. “You set me free.”

Tommy’s eyes go wide and he freezes. Terror courses under Adam’s skin, pushing up from Tommy’s blood. Tommy is afraid of him. 

Adam sinks down, breathing against Tommy’s lips. “No. No, don’t be afraid of me. Please…”

Tommy shudders. “Okay.”

He’s still too ridgid. Too scared. 

“I wont hurt you. I promise.”

“That’s what they said. When my parents sold me to the Master.”

“I’m the Master now,” Adam growls and nips at Tommy’s chin. “I’m the Master. No one is going to hurt you ever again.” 

Tommy closes his eyes. Adam can hear the war raging inside Tommy’s head. The words and the threats, the promises and the memories he’s slogging through. And Adam makes himself wait. Not breathing. He never has to breathe again if he doesn’t want to. 

Tommy relaxes, muscle by muscle. 

Adam presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “We’ll take it all apart. Piece by piece. Body by body. Anyone who hurt you, hurt me, we’ll start with them. Hurt them until we don’t need to.” 

Tommy opens his eyes. There’s tension under his skin but not fear. Adam licks across Tommy’s lips and grins when Tommy’s opens for him. Adam presses in, licking, craving the flavor of Tommy, and Tommy is right there, panting, tasting with him. 

Pulling back enough to watch Tommy’s face, Adam kisses Tommy’s bruised lips with a promise. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Tommy sighs, his arms gliding up Adam’s arms, along his back. 

Adam kisses the ridge of Tommy’s cheekbone. “We’ll make them pay.”

Tommy nods and turns his head, lips pressing open and wet against Adam’s chin. 

“All of them,” Adam says, dipping down to nip at Tommy’s Adam’s apple. 

Tommy shivers and then nods his head. “Okay.” 

“Gonna keep you with me forever.”

“Promise?” Tommy’s fingers tangle in Adam’s hair, holding him in place, hovering just above Tommy. 

“Promise.” Adam pushes down, into Tommy’s space, feeling Tommy’s fingers tighten in his hair, seeing the worry slip away from Tommy’s features. “Mine. Yours. Us. Together forever.” Adam lets his fangs tease at the edge of Tommy’s collarbone. “If you want.”

Tommy arches up. “I want. Please!” 

Exultant, Adam grins, then knees Tommy’s thighs apart, settles himself against Tommy’s pelvis, rubbing their dicks together. He can hear the blood racing toward Tommy’s cock, filling it. He has a fleeting moment to wonder how the hell he’s going to get hard, being technically dead and all, and then the magic surges through him, following his need. 

Tommy groans and pushes up with his hips. “Please….” 

“Okay,” Adam promises, looking down between their bodies. He wants to watch Tommy take him in. But suddenly it’s not right. Tommy’s torn and bloody, broken by a thousand other fucks. 

“No,” Adam whispers. “Mine.” He places his hand over Tommy’s hole and imagines it clean and healthy. Magic wells up in Adam’s palm, warm and sweet. He holds it for a moment, letting it build, and then he sets it free, willing it to heal Tommy. 

Tommy gasps, his body arching off the floor, shaking as the magic pours into him. Adam watches as Tommy begins to glow, scars and bruises burning away under a cry of pain to show clear, pale, sunless white. His hair goes dark, cleaned of blood and bleach. 

“There you are,” Adam says with a smile. He leans forward, one arm supporting his weight, the other still stroking over Tommy’s hole, and kisses Tommy softly on the lips. 

“Hi,” Tommy says after a moment, his eyes dazed. 

“Hi.” 

“Thank you.” 

Adam grins. “Not done yet.” He refocuses the magic, and suddenly his fingers are oozing with something slick and warm. He presses his fingers into Tommy’s smooth asshole. Tommy tenses and then goes lose and languid. 

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy says with a grin. “Do that again.” 

So Adam does. 

Three fingers deep in Tommy’s ass, Adam twists them, hunting for every happy sound Tommy makes. Tommy shivers and shakes, pleasure radiating out from his center. 

“Mine,” Adam whispers. 

Tommy nods, then grips Adam’s biceps and growls. “Mine.” 

Adam grins. “Yours.” 

He lines his cock up against Tommy’s hole and presses in, slowly. It’s hot and tight and fucking amazing. Tommy clenches, the pressure spiking past pleasure, and Adam swallows a shout, then relaxes as Tommy opens up for him. Pulls him in with his ass and his hands. 

“More… “

“Always,” Adam says, but he doesn’t speed up. 

“Come on!” Tommy demands, tugging at any patch of Adam he can reach. 

“No,” Adam whispers. “Slow. Soft. No more pain.”

“Damn it…” 

“No,” Adam repeats. “No more pain for you.” 

Tommy’s eyes go wide. There are tears shimmering on the edges, and he’s holding his breath. Adam leans down, kisses the corner of one eye and tastes the salt there. 

“No pain for us.” Adam sinks the last bit into Tommy’s ass and shudders. “No more hurting. Just this.” He pulls out slowly, sinks back in, lets it build. He rides the energy as Tommy starts to spiral up with him. “Just this. Just us.” 

Tommy nods his head finally, panting. “Okay.”

The heat flares between them, tugging Adam down, making his fangs ache. “Mine,” he whispers. “Be mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Tommy chants. He tilts his head back, stretching his neck for Adam. “Please… Please.”

Adam grazes Tommy’s skin with his fangs, resisting the urge to tear into that now perfect skin. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours. Forever. Please. Don’t let them hurt me again.” Tommy’s staring wide-eyed at Adam. 

“Never,” Adam swears. “Never again.” He sinks his fangs into Tommy’s neck, and Tommy cries out, fingers going tight around Adam’s back. 

“Yours!” Tommy screams as Adam thrusts into him, sucking at the same time. 

Tommy comes on a long extended cry, spunk coating their chests while blood pulses thick and hot into Adam’s mouth. Orgasm changes the taste of the blood to sweetness unlike anything Adam has ever tasted. Adam sucks at the vein, needing more, and pistons his hips in time to Tommy’s pulse. 

He can feel Tommy’s body failing, his skin starting to cool as his blood goes sluggish against Adam’s lips. It’s an ecstasy he never imagined. He can feel his body humming with power and pleasure, boiling, coiling with the need to come, but sanity creeps across his thoughts. There’s more to be had if he can wait. Wait for Tommy. 

With a cry torn from his gut, Adam makes himself slow his thrusts, bank the heat and the need. He forces himself to retract his fangs, lick across the bloody vein and sit up, still balls deep and throbbing in Tommy’s ass. 

“Tommy,” Adam whispers. 

Tommy’s head lolls to one side, his eyes nearly black, glazed over like he’s drugged. 

Adam smiles. “Beautiful.” 

Tommy reaches one boneless arm up, fingertips grazing lightly across Adams cheek. 

“You ready?” Adam asks.

Tommy nods, tears drying on his skin. 

Getting his arms around Tommy’s back, Adam hauls him up, grunting as it forces his aching dick deeper into Tommy’s heat. He cradles Tommy against his chest. 

“Come on, almost there.” 

Tommy’s head wobbles but then, like a snake locking in on the warmth it needs, Tommy’s mouth finds Adam’s neck. Blunt teeth scrape against Adams skin and he waits, dick throbbing, for Tommy to bite down. 

The bite is weak. Tommy has no fangs to pierce Adam’s skin. That’s so not acceptable. Adam doesn’t know how any of this is supposed to work, but he knows Tommy needs fangs. Needs to bite as much as Adam needs to be bitten by Tommy. Adjusting his hold on Tommy, Adam imagines what Tommy’s mouth would look like with sharp fangs gleaming out from his grin. 

Tommy moans and his head rocks from side to side. Adam shifts one hand so he can trace Tommy’s jaw line. In his mind, Adam draws fangs for Tommy, places them behind those full, beautiful lips. 

“Ow,” Tommy says, voice as sluggish as his body. 

“Sorry,” Adam whispers, then presses up, where the fangs should be. A hard point pricks his finger and Adam grins. “Yes. There you are.” 

Adam adjusts them again, angling Tommy’s head closer to his neck and presses against the back of Tommy’s skull.

“Come on, beautiful. Come on.”

The first nick of Tommy’s fangs is cold and sharp. 

“That’s it,” Adam says around a moan. 

The second is better aimed and hurts a little more. Adam rocks up into Tommy, and they both cry out, “Fuck”

Tommy pulls back, his eyes bright and his whole being somehow stronger. He adjusts his aim and then strikes. 

Adam screams, pain and pleasure lancing through him. 

“That’s it Tommy. Suck. Drink me dry, beautiful one.” 

Tommy sucks and sucks and heat sears like a living thing of gold and black and bronze within Adam’s blood. He cants his hips up and shudders at the blazing heat and clench of Tommy’s ass. 

Between them, he can feel Tommy getting hard again and presses them closer, urging Tommy on. “Come on. Come for me. Come for us.”

Tommy sucks hard against Adam’s neck, and Adam can feel the blood flowing back into Tommy. He sinks his own teeth into Tommy’s neck again and screams around the flesh that tastes so fucking good. Tommy growls and sucks harder. Then with a final thrust, Adam comes with Tommy’s teeth deep in his neck and his spunk spilling ice cold between them. 

 

Epilogue: One year later. 

The city lies in ruins at their feet. Smoke curls from building to building. The streets are a mess of broken and burnt cars, abandoned toys, and trinkets the dead no longer need. Only a few buildings remain intact, the Natural History Museum, the Getty, the Japanese American and African American museums, the MOCA and Griffith Observatory in particular. The Grammy Museum is a hole in the ground and will stay that way, evidence of the final battle between LA’s governing vampires and the new order of Adam’s Freaks. 

A colorful army, the foot soldiers and game changers, stand behind Adam and Tommy, their feet planted on the tumbled remains of the Hollywood sign. The ground they’ve watered with monster and human blood showing the first signs of new growth under their collective feet. 

LA belongs to them, the new monsters, the freaks that are neither mortal nor demon, but something other, something more. Something born of blood and fire, rage and pain and finally hope. They are only one city, in one country. The monsters still own much of the world, but that’s changing. Other Masters now walk the earth born of magic and suffering like Adam, like Tommy, like their friends, each one clawing their way out of hell to stand in the sun. 

Adam looks down at Tommy and squeezes their hands together. Tommy looks up and grins, ferocious joy radiating from his eyes. 

It’s a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this as therapy about nine months ago when I was diagnosed with PTSD and trying to cope with all the crap associated with that. I was angry and stuck and writing something dark and cruel seemed like a good way to process all of the noise in my head. I think there’s a joke in there about how you know you’re a writer when… whatever, it was kind of fun(?) to write and since none of the people I forced it on told me I was nuts to be writing it, I opted to keep going. And here we are.


End file.
